


The Nutcracker

by thefuckistevvs



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Ballet AU, Fingering, Jamie is a ballet dancer and Mako is a Cello player from the orchestra, LISTEN im happy about krampus and i am so gay for him but like rat king rat would have been SO boss, M/M, Oral Sex, anyways this is short w/e
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefuckistevvs/pseuds/thefuckistevvs
Summary: Jamison was the star.Based off on some ramblings me and Mozg had.





	The Nutcracker

**Author's Note:**

> “After all, I am the star!” 
> 
> OKAY SO, i am kinda late and i promised last week i would write this, because me and Mozg talked about it the other day, BUT then I got a throat infection, and THEN the event was revealed and instea of rat King skin, we got krampus skin  
> WHICH, I DONT COMPLAIN AT ALL, but oh well. Still wanted to write this!!!! I thought it was a lovely idea, and some1 actually gave me some money to write it alkjsfkljaslfdk but again, i couldnt until today cus i was ultra sick and I had christmas shopping to deal with ;_;
> 
> ANYWAYS, here it is!! Ballet AU!! I hope you guys like it <3<3 thanks for reading !!

“Keep up! Keep up!”

Sweat rolled down his forehead as he kept spinning and jumping. Everybody else followed as well in their own routines, very well planned to not crash against each other in the stage. 

“Eliza, keep your back straighter! Put your body into it! I want to see passion!” 

He focused on his own steps. His body moved rhythmically, focused on his heartbeat as he swirled and practiced. The movements of the other bodies around him made a beautiful choreography, ballerinas dancing beautifully and in perfect order. 

“Shit-”

Someone slipped, and crashed against him. Both of them fell onto the floor, Jamison’s prosthetics clattered loudly against the hardwood. 

“Sorry, sorry! I slipped,” said the man whose name Jamison couldn’t remember. He was new, this was his first play in the company, and Jamison was already terrible at names. “Are you okay?”

“Ya, ya, just watch out next time!” He sighed, standing up and making sure his prosthetics didn’t dislodged or get damaged.

“Daniel, be more careful!” The Director sighed, sitting on the front row of the theater. She sighed, massaging her brow. “You were all doing pretty well, before the slip.” 

Jamison took a deep break and cracked his fingers. He saw people enter the theater- the orchestra group. They weren’t carrying their heavy instruments with them, they surely were there only to scope out the theater.

His Company and that Orchestra group had been performing together for years. The Ballet Director was close friends with the Orchestra Director, so most of their gigs were together. Jamison had gotten to know most of the musicians there. 

They were going to inaugurate this new theater with their play, so it was a pretty big deal. It was a beautiful theater, but there were still paint cans lying around and was a bit dirty. These were the conditions they had to work in, but honestly? Jamison didn’t care. He only cares about having enough space to dance.

“Alright, Where is my Rat King and my Nutcracker?”

Jamison stepped forward, hands on his hips. Another tall man, not as tall as him but surely more attractive stepped forward as well. 

“Okay, it’s time to practice the fight between the Nutcracker and the Rat King. Jamison, I’ve noticed you tend to lean a little bit to the right. Try to keep that in mind. Morris, try to not skip a step like last time please?”

“Yes Ma’am,” they both replied.

“Alright, everyone, get in position…”

Jamison could have gotten the lead. He is as good, if not better, than Morris. _He_ could have been the nutcracker. His abnormal height and the gangliness of his limbs always landed him in antagonistic roles, however. But honestly? It wasn’t that big of a deal- he always thoughts villains were far more interesting than heroes. But he knew that his body was the only reason he didn’t get the nutcracker role, or the hero roles.

Not that he wanted them. But he knew he was _better_.

He focused on what the Director said, trying to not lean too much to the right. It was his prosthetics- they skewed up his balance. Made it a bit more difficult for him to keep upright. As sleek as they were, they still made it harder for him. 

No one believed he would be able to dance after the car accident that took his limbs away. But he _could_. Everybody awhed and gawked at how, poor defenseless Jamison was ruined for life but he proved them _wrong_. He refused to take their pity. He refused to be the little story of the dancer that couldn’t. So he took those compliments, shoved them into the garbage, got up and danced again. So now people respect him. They know that he will refuse to lie down and die.

Morris made a mistake, _again_ (he wouldn’t have made that mistake. Jamison was _better_ ). The Director sighed loudly.

“Alright team, Five minute break.”

Jamison sighed and went over the water bottles, unscrewing the cap off one and taking a big gulp from the icy cold water. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar, giant hulking figure looking around at the theater. He didn’t carry his cello and wasn’t in his suit, but he still looked as recognizable as ever with his long, silver ponytail and huge size.

The dancer smiled as he finished his water. The Cellist looked at him from afar, and Jamison could have sworn there was the hint of a smile. Jamison smiled as well.

“Alright team, your five is over- lets go over this scene again. And Morris? Don’t fuck it up this time.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Jamison popped his shoulders and got into position.

“Alright, Three, two, one…”

\---

By the time the rehearsal was over it was dark, as always. He said goodbye to everybody and walked out of the theater. The streetlights illuminated the sidewalk, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the night. 

“Good rehearsal,” a deep baritone voice called from behind a streetlight. 

Jamison laughed. “Thank ye. Lead kept fuckin’ up.”

“You’re better than him.”

“I _AM_ better than ‘im! But he got the lead.”

The Cellist approached. He was huge, even bigger than Jamison. Mako’s gorgeous hair was tied up in a ponytail, and he smiled softly with his thick lips as he joined Jamison in his walk.

“Why weren’t you cast as the lead?”

“It’s pretty obvious!” He lifted his right arm, a prosthetic. “I don’t care. Villains are cooler.”

“Everybody likes the bad guy better.”

“Ain’t that right!” he chuckled loudly. “But I could have gotten the lead. I’m better.”

“Of course you are.”

They went to Mako’s apartment, as normal. Mako grabbed his Cello and dragged it down on the apartment building’s basketball court. Luckily he lived in the first floor, so it wasn’t too much of a trip. Lucky for them the basketball court was empty of children, illuminated by the shitty street lights above them. 

Mako sat down and put his cello in position. He sighed, and he started to play a song he knew by heart.

Jamison followed by dancing, a choreography his body made up as he went. Dancing, stretching, swirling around. 

The music echoed through the apartment buildings. No one really complained, as far as they were aware. No one complained about the free Cello concert.  
Jamison let his spirit soar with the music. His feet moved by his own, body twisting carefully and full of life. Elegant, and yet Chaotic. 

That’s why Jamison was so good. Other dancers were elegant and beautiful like a swan- Jamison was beautiful as an explosion. Full of energy, full of intensity, every vertebrae of his body pulsated with energy, the tip of his bones protruding through his leotard. It was an intense sight, and once a critic called him “a horror of anatomy”. That’s also why he always got the antagonist roles. Because his body was so vivid, so vibrant, so _horrifyingly_ alive people couldn’t stop but feel a certain horror at it.

But Mako enjoyed the horror. He drank it. He didn’t care for the swans or the other beautiful men or women in the company. He care about the way Jamison jumped, the way his bones jutted, the way his muscles tensed as he danced under the lights. 

Jamison was very proud of that. Mako was the star of the orchestra. Acclaimed. Sought. A beautiful oxymoron- a man so big with dangerous hands, that created such beautiful, gorgeous music. 

Jamison loved when he was on stage. All eyes were on him. All those people fixated on him and his movements, fixated in the metal in his body. But he would give all those eyes, all those spectators for this. Dancing in concrete, with Mako playing. His sight was worth millions of dollars. 

He danced and Mako played, until they were both exhausted.

 

“Come home with me?” Mako asked, cello beside him, and Jamison sitting next to him.

“Roight,” he chuckled. Like he would say anything but yes.

He helped him drag the cello back inside, and once it was secured in place they wasted no time. 

Mako’s hands were all over him. He dipped them under Jamison’s leotard, getting wet with the blond’s sweat. 

“Don’t rip it,” Jamison said, breathless.

“Will buy you a new one,” Mako breathed into his neck. 

He lifted him with his hands and pressed Jamison against the wall. His mouth was all over his body, kissing his skin sweatily while Jamison couldn’t do anything but moan in anticipation. One thumb was pressed against Jamison’s dick, making him shudder. His left hand grabbed at Mako’s ponytail and pulled hard, getting a delicious sound out of the cellist. 

“Fuck,” he chuckled. 

As much as he would have enjoyed being fucked into the wall, Mako carried him to the bedroom, kissing everywhere he could reach. He threw themselves at the bed, making it bounce madly while Jamison just hollered.

“Give me a sec,” Jamison sighed, hot and hoarse. He took off his leotard because even if he knew Mako would buy him one if he ripped it (like last time), getting a new one was a pain in the ass. 

Mako took off his clothes as well, tossing them carelessly to the floor. Once they were both naked, they went back in bed. Jamison wasted no time crawling down to Mako’s thighs, left hand stroking at his cock and lips dragging along the head of his dick.

“Ah, Jamie-” Mako sighed. He let out a delicious moan when Jamison took him into his mouth.

Mako’s heavy hand pressed against Jamison’s head. His tongue pressed at the underside of Mako’s cock, the bitter taste of his precum flooding his tastebuds. 

As much as he wanted to just choke on his dick all night long, it was just the start. 

“Open yerself up, love,” Jamison breathed into his thigh. 

Mako chuckled, getting the lube from out of his nightstand. He coated his fingers with it, kneeling with his back arched, huge stomach and chest glistening with sweat as he started to penetrate himself. Jamison sat back, jerking himself off at the sight of Mako fingering himself open. It was a beautiful sight and damn, he could just blow a fuse right here and there.

“Ready,” Mako sighed, as he took the fingers out of his ass. He passed the lube to Jamison, who wasted no time coating his cock in it. 

“About time, was ready to blow up here.” 

“Don’t you dare.” Mako said. Jamison wouldn’t, never. But he wondered what would happen if he did so. The idea of Mako punishing him was delicious, but that was maybe for another day.

Mako laid on his back, hands propping his head up. His huge belly covered most of his sight, but the good thing is that Jamison was pretty tall. The blond knee walked towards Mako’s ass, his cock pretty erect and ready. He pressed the spongy head against Mako’s hot rim, and both sighed so heavenly, Jamison thought he was dead for a second.

In one quick shove, Jamison penetrated Mako. His insides were slick and warm, perfectly fic for Jamison. He couldn’t resist but bend over and kiss at Mako’s belly, while he slowly started to roll his hips, thrusting inside the cellist. 

“F-fuck, fuck you feel so fucking good,” Jamison sighed, closing his eyes and baring his throat and chest. His muscles glistened under the light of Mako’s room, sweat rolling down his toned abs. The intensity he felt in his bones when he danced was back, pooling under his spine, traveling from his chest to his crotch. 

Mako could see it, too. That burning passion. That intensity, the fire under Jamison’s skin. Mako once told him, he looked like a phoenix in flight when he danced and when he fucked. His skin ready to burst into flames at any moment, body ready to hatch a creature of pure energy. 

It just made Jamison hornier. 

Mako’s hands went from the back to his head to the sheets, gripping at them hard. He grit his teeth, breathing deep and wild. His beautiful thick fingers went to grasp at Jamison’s sides, pressing hard. Those fingers composed melodies more beautiful than anything Jamison had ever heard. Elegance that he didn’t know existed. 

Those fingers were so huge and left bruises where they pressed, and yet they were so delicate and elegant. Expensive and tasteful. So beautiful and gorgeous, part of a exquisit man. Mako was so good. So hot. So gorgeous. So goddamn beautiful. He deserved a million thousand dollars only for existing. He was the seventh wonder of the world. He was worth several prizes. He- he- fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His movements became erratic, biting his lip so hard it bruised. His breathing went wild, hands grabbing at Mako’s thighs for dear life, hips hurting from all the exercise from today. He felt fire gather at the bottom of his stomach.

“Fuck-!” He whispered one last time, crouching and grabbing at Mako, everything he could grab as he came inside of him. He kept rolling his hips through the orgasm, one hand grabbing at Mako’s cock to pull and get him to his orgasm as well.

“Jamie, fuck. Shit.” He whispered softly into his ear, and Jamison felt Mako’s warm cum between them. 

Jamison took a deep breath, regaining his bearings as he pulled out. Mako reached over his nightstand and grabbed a box of kleenex, giving them to Jamison. He chuckled, and cleaned them up as much as he could with his exhaustion. 

“Needed that,” Mako said as Jamison finished, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him close. “Thanks.”

“Nah, thank ye.” Jamison smiled. “I’m lucky ye are here with me.”

Mako pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“Have music rehearsal tomorrow. Will you come?” Mako asked, exhaustion creeping into his voice.

“Is me day off. But sure love. Wouldn’t miss it for anythin’ in the world.”

They both chuckled. “You ready for opening day?”

“Love,” he stared up at Mako with intense eyes. “I am always ready for the audience.” He howled. 

“After all, I am the star!”

**Author's Note:**

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